Dearly Beloved
by j.m.hxc. xo420
Summary: Spot writes a letter to his beloved. Hard to explain. Breaking a stereotype really. R&R!


HAPPY NEW YEARS! This is my first story for '06. Wh00t Wh00t!

Okay, everyone, here's the deal:

This is a story that is totally about breaking a stereotype. One that is often over-used.

Spot A Womanizer.

Maybe I am just overly-opinionated, but, well, you tell me what you think.

BTW- This story is pre-Newsies. Oh, and this story never gives a name to the person Spot is writing to. So it can be to anyone.

_**Dearly Beloved,**_

---

Spot sat down at his desk and stared at the letter that sat in front of him. He didn't even need to read it. He knew who it was from. He reluctantly picked up a pen and some blank paper and began to write back to her. It was about time he did anyway. Part of him was actually starting to miss her...

_Dearly Beloved,_

He paused. What do you say to someone you haven't written to or even talked to in forever?

_Sorry it has taken me so long to write back. I guess ruling Brooklyn has taken over my life._

_I hope your feeling well. I'm fine I suppose... _

_It's nice to hear from you again. I really miss seeing you around. Your pretty smile, your gorgeous eyes... I can't wait for you to come home again. We can cuddle by the fire or just talk. I don't know. Whatever you want to do._

Spot looked up from the paper. It really had been too long. He was actually starting to miss her. The whole point of her journalism trip was to get her away from him. And now all he wanted to do was get her back.

What to say next? Maybe if he actually read the letter...

He opened her letter and skimmed through it. She was feeling sick. But she had part of a great article written. Alright, that would work.

_In response to your letter, I hope you feel well soon. And it's great about your article. I can't wait to read it. I bet every paper in the world will fight over it._

Now what? Spot sighed. Writing to her was always such a struggle...

_Well, I love you, My Beloved. And I hope to hear from you again soon._

_Much Love,_

_Anthony James Benvolio Solmon Conlon III _

_AKA _

_Patrick "Spot" Conlon_

Spot smirked and slipped the letter into an envelope. He licked the envelope shut and placed a stamp on it.

"Whistler, take this to the post office." he commanded. The red headed boy took the letter and left.

Spot sat down at his bed and rubbed his temples. Writing to her was such a hassle some days...

---

Five Days Later:

Spot entered his room and saw two letters on his desk. He smirked.

He grabbed the top letter and read it.

_**RETURN TO SENDER. ------ **_

Spot frowned, but tossed the letter aside. _Probably a miss-conception. Or a mess up at the post office..._He picked up the next one and opened it carefully.

_To Mr. Conlon:_

_I regret to write this to you. ... Your girlfriend has passed on. I'm very sorry for your loss._

_Please except my condolences. Her funeral will be held in Chicago at the Potter's Funeral Home in two days. _

_I hope you will be able to attend. It will mean alot to her family._

_Sincerely:_

_Horace Vante_

Spot sat in shock. She was gone. He had almost always neglected her letters, never actually reading them. He had never really cared about her. At least, until now. Without her, it felt as if the earth had stop turning, the sun stopped shining, his pulse had stopped beating...

He grabbed a pen and paper. _This can't be happening... _He thought. _It just can't._

_Dearly Beloved,_

_I just got a letter from a Mr. Vante. He says your dead. Gone._

_Somehow, I just can't bring myself to believe it. It can't be true... It just can't. Why, you ask? _

_Because I love you. **I love you**. And you can't be dead._

_I've loved you since the day we met. Do you remember?_

_We met at the park. I was strutting around.. I was so focused on looking like royalty, I didn't even see you. I almost knocked you over. You giggled flirtaciously, and I smirked. We got along right away. I tried to show you how good I was. How I was King of Brooklyn. You just thought I looked funny. _

_You took my cane and threw it around like a baton. I remember it clearly. You said it would be awesome if it was lit on fire. _

_We stayed together all day. I remember I tried to grab your hand and hold it. You moved it so fast, I thought you didn't like me. But you were only playing hard to get._

_The way your eyes sparkled. The way you smiled. I fell for you immediately. But I couldn't show it. I was the leader of Brooklyn then.I had just started. I still am now. But, now... it's not the only thing that matters to me anymore. What matters is you. You were all that should have mattered. I love you. And I will love you, until I die. In fact, I will love you after that. I will love you even more because we will be together. Just you and me. No one else to intervene or spread the lies. The lies that say I'm a womanizer. That I will have sex with any thing that wears a skirt. _

_But they don't have a clue. I love one girl. And one alone. You. _

_In truth, I've probably slept with about two girls my whole life. And even then I couldn't focus on them. All I could think of was you._

_I remember our first date. It was snowing and it was cold. Your ears were pink and your cheeks rosy. We were freezing. But you smiled the whole time, your eyes glistened like you knew something I didn't. We walked around the park, skated on the river, ate dinner (I still haven't paid that check), and I even stole you a bouquet of blood red roses, just to show you I loved you. _

_That night we shared our first kiss. We were both cold. I couldn't stop shuffling my feet. Smirking constantly. You were as gorgeous as ever, perfect in every way. I knew I wanted you to be mine. I leaned forward and kissed you. It was short and sweet. When we broke apart, your cheeks were pink. I couldn't tell if you were blushing or if it was just from the cold. I knew I was blushing. I turned on my heel and ran away. I felt so dumb. I thought you hated me. But you ran after me and kissed me. 'Just because I love you.' you said. 'Love doesn't need an explanation.' you always said._

_They say you don't appreciate something until it's gone. Well they weren't lying. It's totally true. I miss you so much. Every day we were apart it got worse. I never wanted to admit it. But...you're gone. And... I can't bear it. There is so much pain. _

_Outwardly, I'm trying to look fine. I want to appear as the Leader everyone wants me to be, truth be told I can't. It's too much. I'm hurting. And I have to hold it inside so no one knows. My heart is breaking. I can't handle it. _

_I remember our last day together... _

_No tears were shed, _

_no cute little I Love You's said. _

_You just walked out. _

_And I was left alone filled with doubt_

_that we were really in love._

_I watched the carriage take you away, thinking it was for the better. But I see now it wasn't. It really wasn't. I should have never let you go. I needed you then. And I still need you know._

_When I said I'd be leader, no one ever told me that I had to be like this. That I had to pretend I was something I'm not. But now that is the way it must be. Everyone has this personification of what a leader should be. And how I am supposed to be. Yet, I don't want to be that. I don't want to be a cruel, heartless human that doesn't give a shit about anyone but himself. _

_I don't know why this is happening to me. I never did anything to deserve this! I've always been good to people I don't know. I've always taken in people who have no where else to go._

_You know what?_

_From now on, I'm no longer going to be the nice leader. I'm going to change. Other newsies will respect me. I will be feared. My name will fill people's hearts with fear. I will be a strong leader. No one will dare to take me on. I will no longer give my heart to one girl. I'm going to let everyone think I'm a womanizer. I don't care anymore. I will no longer **love**. _

_If this is how it must be. Then so be it._

_Love Always,_

_Anthony James Benvolio Solomon Conlon III_

_Spot Conlon_

Spot folded the letter up and placed it in an envelope.  
_When I go to your funeral, I will give it to you.  
_But he didn't. He kept it. He kept it in a leather bound journal, along with several other letters he wrote. He wrote to her knowing she was gone. Hoping, one day, she would read them. And see that he really loved her.

---

Story end. R&R!


End file.
